


How ardently I love you

by whopooh



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Year of Quotes, february quote challenge, fourth time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 08:50:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: They have been in a relationship for exactly 96 hours, and Jack feels he needs to step up his game.





	How ardently I love you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucyschroeder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucyschroeder/gifts).



> For the February quote challenge and I think it fits loosely to both “I’m not used to being loved. I wouldn’t know what to do” (F. Scott Fitzgerald) _and_ “There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time” (Jane Austen).
> 
> But primarily, it was prompted by lucyschroeder saying on tumblr that she wanted the movie to have [a scene of Phryne and Jack like this](http://missingmissfisher.tumblr.com/post/170971507613/balticprincess-harritudur-sofiya-ep7) and it made my brain start to turn.
> 
> Thank you so much to Fire_Sign for beta reading <3

The first time had been an epiphany. 

Her skin, as soft as he had imagined. Her mouth, a small pool that seemed specifically designed for his drowning. Her body, moving beneath him until she took control and rose above him, giving him more pleasure than he could have imagined. 

She made his whole being short-circuit from sensory overload. He had never been more present in the moment, aware of every detail about her, about himself, about the line between them that suddenly felt very blurred. 

No wonder he had more or less passed out afterwards. He wondered idly if it had disappointed her that he hadn’t been there to whisper and mumble and caress her softly. Those had always been the best moments between Rosie and him. He sighed, chastising himself as he picked out a tie and laid it around his collar—he had decided he would ban his ex-wife from his head in everything that was about Phryne Fisher, and it seemed he’d already failed. 

He worked on the knot while he regarded himself in his bedroom mirror. Going through the routine of a Tuesday morning as if nothing special had happened in his life, as if he hadn’t made the most daring choice the Friday before, and then later again on Saturday morning and Saturday evening as well. The most daring, or the most natural? He supposed there were arguments for both. As he buttoned his waistcoat he couldn’t help but imagine another pair of hands, much more delicate than his, unbuttoning them with relish. He was going to Wardlow after work this evening, and he suspected he’d struggle to focus on work until then.

The work went better than he’d feared—the puzzle of a suspected murder that might have been an accident kept him busy—and sooner than he’d guessed, the workday was over. As he left City South, he took a deep breath in the Melbourne air. He had decided he needed to step up his game; he was sure Phryne didn’t mind a man being overwhelmed by her, almost overtaken by her, but he was also sure she craved more versatility than that. He couldn’t let her always set the pace, or she would surely tire of him. Tonight, he would try to be the pursuer. He wanted to surprise her, and he wanted her to have that feeling of being thoroughly desired that had overwhelmed him during the weekend.

He formed a plan as he drove to her. It wasn’t completely in character for him, but he was certain it was only a matter of practice. His mind kept fuelling his decision by flashing him moments of their weekend together—Phryne with only her camisole on watching him over her shoulder as she stood by her bed, Phryne’s head falling backwards as she rose over him as they made love, the sound she made as he captured her breast in his mouth. He blinked slowly to try to regain his composure as he exited his car and walked towards Wardlow.

When he knocked, Phryne opened the door herself, looking thoroughly at ease in beautiful lounge wear.

“I was sure it would be you,” she smiled as she let him in.

 _Right_ , Jack thought for himself at the opportunity before him. _This is it. Go for it._

He didn’t stop to even take off his hat or coat. He simply turned towards her as she closed the door and took her in his arms. He pushed her against the door with his body and kissed her soundly, feeling her mouth open and letting his tongue explore her, while the hand not holding her neck meandered down her side and in under her blouse.

“Jack!” she exclaimed into his kiss, surprised.

He retreated.

“Too much?” he asked, uncertain.

“Never too much,” she answered and searched his eyes. “But aren’t you hungry?”

He returned her gaze, searching for reassurance that he hadn’t overstepped. Then he gave her a peck on the lips and took a step back, starting to take off his coat. 

“You are right, I absolutely am,” he said.

She gave him a curious look, then motioned for him to enter the dining room. 

“Not that I’m against your… ardour,” she said and flashed him a playful grin. “But Mr Butler’s cooking has smelled particularly enticing today.”

His stomach growled at the exact moment, and he smiled at her in response.

The dinner was delicious, roasted lamb and one of Mr Butler’s heavenly gratins. Phryne was a brilliant conversationalist, but Jack could sense she was also evaluating him. 

After dinner they went into the parlour.

“Would you mind pouring us a drink, Jack?” Phryne asked. 

“If you don’t mind me stealing Mr Butler’s work,” he said. He turned to the drink cart, not managing to think of something more exotic than whisky and pouring a generous measure into two tumblers.

As he turned around, glasses in hand, he found her sitting invitingly with her feet tucked up on the chaise, obviously interested to see where he would choose to place himself. This was all so new, and they didn’t have a proper script for it.

After a second of hesitation, he handed her a glass and sat down next to her, as close as he could. She raised her glass in a toast and looked speculatively at him. He took a large sip for courage and then put the glass aside, turning to her. He took her hand and caressed it, soon allowing his hand to continue up her arm and as it landed on one of its favourite spots, her neck, he pulled her towards him. She came gingerly, and their lips met in a thorough kiss. She made a movement to slip into his lap, but he resisted it, instead pushing so he was partly over her. 

“I want you,” he said, and he tried not to cringe at his own words. He wasn’t used to explicitly state his own arousal, and he felt he didn’t manage to do it justice. But she deserved that—she deserved to hear how desired she was, how much he wanted her, and he wasn’t going to let his own embarrassment take that away from her.

“I want you too, Jack,” she said and smiled at his eagerness. “Do you… want to skip the drinks?”

Jack paused. What would be the right response here? He decided for urgency. He stood and held out a hand to her; she took it and rose to stand beside him. She was utterly bewitching, and he couldn’t help bending down to kiss her again. She moaned against his lips and it set him on fire; he took her hand again and pulled her upstairs to her boudoir.

Having shut the door behind them, he took a few long strides towards her and again captured her lips with his own, starting to undress her. She answered in kind and liberated him swiftly of his jacket and waistcoat and opened his shirt without taking it off him—he had no idea how she could unbutton all those buttons that quickly, while he only had the task of managing her very easy lounge wear. She escaped his lips and sat down on the bed, obviously intrigued to see what he would do. 

Jack lunged at her, pushing her down on the bed and embracing her, kissing her as if there was no tomorrow. 

“Jack,” she whispered, her hands in his hair to keep him close, and she opened her legs for him. His eagerness had pushed them further to the side of the bed than they had noticed, and when he answered her movement by trying to place himself between her legs, he suddenly felt the mattress disappear beneath him. He desperately tried to find something to hold on to, but the pillow he reached for simply followed them over the edge of the bed. With a loud thump, they landed on the floor, Jack on top.

“Ouch!” Phryne exclaimed, and the look Jack threw her was slightly desperate. _Not what I was aiming for,_ was all he managed to think before worry took over him.

“Did I hurt you?” 

“Ouch,” she said again, more like a word than an exclamation this time. “I think I can’t breathe.”

He sat up, caressing the part of her that was closest to hand, which happened to be her stomach and arm.

“I’m so sorry, Phryne,” he said, alarmed. “Can I…” He tried to help her up, but she swatted away his hands. 

“What is this all about?” she said and looked at him pointedly. “Why are you behaving like an adolescent who has never seen a woman before?”

“I… what?”

“You come here, you press me up against walls and lunge at me as if you’re a bumbling youth. You don’t even finish your drink before dragging me up to bed,” she said, sitting up while gesticulating. “Not that I object to heat of the moment, but it doesn’t feel like your heart is really in it. Also, you made me fall off a bed.” 

Her gaze pierced his as she continued: 

“Who are you and what have you done to Jack Robinson?”

He blushed a deep red and she took pity on him, placing a hand on his cheek and stroking her thumb over his lips. Her eyes were still relentlessly demanding an answer from him.

“I…” he started, before pausing. 

He didn’t look her in the eyes, feeling utterly ridiculous sitting there on the floor, half-dressed, and with the woman of his dreams looking curiously at him. How did she manage to look dignified even in a heap on the floor? 

“I just… wanted you to feel… how much I desire you.” He swallowed. “I was afraid you maybe don’t feel… pursued,” he finished lamely.

“Do you think I don’t feel pursued?” she asked, her hand forcing him to face her. “Do you think I don’t feel desired?”

He saw a frown forming on her face. She looked almost angry.

“I thought I might need to show more initiative,” he answered. It sounded more stupid when he said it aloud than it had in his head. “To be more…”

“Jack,” she said, and she clipped his name that way she had a habit of. “Stop. You don’t have to behave in a special way to make me feel desired.” She grabbed his face between her hands, a little more forcefully than was entirely comfortable. “I feel that every time we’re in the same room. In every way you respond to me. You don’t have to be… brazen, or rash, or whatever you were aiming for, to show that.”

Jack took a deep breath.

“I’m a fool,” he said.

“You most definitely are.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow at her. As if on cue, they both started laughing. Phryne’s laughter pearled like a wave; for Jack it was a slow laugh that built up into a crescendo. She clutched his arm while laughing. It was a long time since he’d felt so much as a fool, and also since he’d laughed as much. 

“You don’t have to compete with every man in Australia, darling. Just be Jack,” Phryne said. 

His heart clenched at the endearment, and he searched her eyes to see if she regretted it. He saw nothing but earnestness in the depth of her blue eyes. He reached out to caress her hair. 

“Just be Jack,” he parroted. She nodded. “And what would Jack do?” he asked, his voice turning velvety.

Phryne reached up into the bed and dragged down the blanket and pillows she could reach. She spread them out to make the floor as comfortable as possible, then laying down and half pulling him with her. 

“I’m sure he can think of something,” she said, her voice turning dark in response to his, “with that clever mind that clearly thinks too much.”

He matched her smile, before looking down at her as if she was a puzzle to solve. 

“I suppose he could start from the… bottom of the problem,” he said. He caressed her stomach and hips before trailing his hands to squeeze her behind. As she gasped he continued, positioning himself beneath her. He placed a first, tentative kiss on her tuft of hair before gently exploring her sex with his fingers. Phryne gasped again. 

It seemed he did know a way to show his very sincere and ardent eagerness to her, after all. From the way she reacted to him as he replaced his fingers with his tongue, he decided he was even rather good at it. 

By the time he fell asleep—still on the floor as neither of them had the energy to actually move—he was fairly certain she knew his desire. And if there were any doubts left, he was sure they could deal with it in the morning.


End file.
